


Vindictive

by theherochild



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Captain America - Freeform, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Death but don't be alarmed, Infinity War, Just read it and you'll see, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Platonic but Implied, Plot twist ig?, Steve isn't Steve but he is, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky in Vietnam, The Avengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherochild/pseuds/theherochild
Summary: Bucky Barnes had a simple mission: bring the prisoner back to camp for execution.It didn't matter why, so Bucky hadn't bother to ask, and besides, his thoughts were elsewhere.





	Vindictive

January 30, 1968

Bucky Barnes was going to kill Rogers, or at least severely injure the bastard.

He got along with nearly all of his other comrades, even Michael Jones who made jokes with the sole intent to degrade him. Rogers, however, was insufferable.

As white as snow, his complexion mirrored the white coating of the cold, dead earth back in Bucky's hometown. Ebony ringlets bounced from his scalp, half covering the hazel glare that he reserved just for Bucky.

Steven Rogers was no soldier. Hell, he wasn't even a good man.

Bucky glared at him, observing his tall frame in the middle of the otherwise deserted boulevard. He was hunched over a scrawny boy, their prisoner soon to be executed. His tender skin had already begun to swell as Steven's knuckles had their way with him.

"Barnes," Jones spoke, momentarily removing the canteen from his lips to offer his friend a grin, "penny for your thoughts?"

"Rogers," he replied with a grunt, unwilling to look away from Steven. No one had offered him a seat under the protection of the fence, all silently wished that an enemy would have enough skill to aim at a semi-mobile target in the middle of an open street in broad daylight.

Bucky was sure it was only a matter of time but he could only hope.

"Actually, you should be the one giving me a penny."

"Funny, Mikey."

Jones just grinned, nodding towards an over-dramatic Rogers that now had a gun in his hands. The prisoner was pinned to the ground, trembling as Rogers pulled the trigger. The gun wasn't pointed at him though so instead, the bullets were fired into the heavens.

"Fuck you, God!" he screamed while the prisoner remained still and silent beneath him.

Bucky's brows furrowed as he watched the scene unfold. It was extremely unnecessary to torture the man and would only cause the prisoner to struggle more when the actual execution was done.

"I bet he'd love for God to fuck him," Mikey mumbled, leaning back against the fence and moaning femininely to mock Rogers, "oh yes...f-f-fuck."

"You know...you're quite good at that, Mikey. Almost like God, or someone else, has been fucking you."

Bucky was silent for a moment before he snickered at Robert Taylor's comment. It made him uncomfortable but he quickly decided that at the expense of Steven Rogers, even homophobia was hysterical. He watched as Taylor continued the charade by inching away from Mikey and blessing himself. "Forgive me, father, for meeting this sinful man. Let me cure him of his disease and if not, give me the strength to kill my former friend-"

Mikey stuck his middle finger up at Robert, causing laughter to erupt from Bucky's lips. He felt Rogers' gaze shift towards him and he grabbed the canteen from Mikey, taking a sip of water before staring back. Rogers glowered as if his look could speak for his fists. Bucky raised his brow causing Rogers to look away. His own look could speak for his fists too and in that arms race, Bucky would win every time.

"Hey, Rogers!" Mikey called, glancing at Bucky and smirking before motioning the other over.

He looked their way again, making it obvious he was rolling his eyes before pulling the prisoner to his feet and dragging him over to the fence.

"Taylor, Jones," he nodded in their direction, deciding to awkwardly loom over them with the prisoner by his side.

He waited a beat, being the dramatic little shit he was, before pushing the prisoner to the ground at Bucky's feet. "James."

The prisoner yelped but Bucky could only offer him a small look of condolence. Everything was a game to Rogers and he would see helping the prisoner as a sign of weakness. As much as he wanted to help the poor man, he didn't want Rogers to think that he had won.

"Steven," Bucky replied, making Rogers hold eye contact after acknowledging him. Even if Bucky despised Rogers, he knew how to be a decent soldier; he knew what side he was on. Rogers just thought everyone was the enemy.

That might have been fueled by the fact that he was recently disowned by his family. With no protection from the draft, he was thrust into the heart of the battle. In Steven Rogers' eyes, the entire world was against him.

Sadly, he had yet to be shot, though Bucky had come close to killing the man himself many times.

"What is it, Jones?" he said, looking away from Bucky to acknowledge him.

But before Mikey could start spitting bullshit, their superior walked over to them.

"Up, boys," he said simply, rolling his shoulders back as his subordinates rose to attention.

"At ease. Now, Rogers, you'll flank to the prisoner's left a few steps in front of him. Jones, to his direct left and Talyor, to his direct right. Barnes, trail behind him."

They all nodded and Bucky regarded the prisoner. He almost looked American with his disheveled blonde hair and bright eyes, but no American would have been covered in that many wounds. It was a medley of lilac and chartreuse contusions, coral scars, and blood the shade of burgundy caked on his skin.

He looked at Bucky in the same moment, startling him with the liveliness in his eyes despite the sunken look of the rest of his facial features. His eyes were breeding flames of defiance that might have been the only reason his heart was continuing to beat.

Bucky swallowed hard.

"Come on," he said, standing up and offering his hand in a much more polite manner than the captive had been accustomed too. He was slow to take his hand, skin like cobwebs just barely clinging onto the bone. But Bucky's grip was firm and he was able to pull the prisoner up with a slight tug.

Bucky placed a hand, rather than a gun, between the prisoner's shoulder blades. It was the least he could do. Still, the prisoner flinched upon contact and he glanced back to Bucky who gave him an encouraging smile, tapping his back to get him to start walking. The prisoner fell in line with the others, walking just slow enough that Bucky had to keep his hand square between his shoulders.

All was going according to plan, that was until they reached the end of the fence.

Rogers rounded it senselessly, oblivious to both God and the bullets that would bless his skin.

Bucky pulled the prisoner back behind the protection of the fence with the noise echoing through their ears, pressing him against his chest as they stumbled back against the tightly aligned wooden planks.

The prisoner was still for a moment before springing from Bucky's grip, pivoting to the left to make a break for it. But before he could take another step, Bucky snatched him by his collar.

"You're staying right here," he chided, pulling the prisoner down into a crouch by his side. When Bucky looked over, he was met with the other's penetrating stare that juxtaposed his malnourished and weak body. His eyes belonged to the body of a man with a frame of six feet rather than a soon-to-be executed prisoner six inches shorter; his eyes should have belonged to a soldier.

He would have made a better soldier than Steven Rogers.

"How else am I supposed to keep you alive?" he added, averting his gaze when he noticed how tightly he was gripping the other's shirt. He dropped his hand, dusting it off on his thighs before turning his head to the right to see his comrades.

More accurately, the lack thereof.

The bodies of Steven Rogers and their superior laid motionless in the cobblestone street, blood seeping between the cracks. Steven bore many bullet holes but the most prominent one was placed dead center on his forehead, creating a halo of crimson around his head.

Bucky looked away, turning his attention towards his remaining comrades.

"Mikey, did you get a good look?" Bucky asked, trying to get a read on the situation. It was a surprise that attackers were placed so close to their base and no one had encountered them before.

"I believe there is only one," he said, trying to sound affirmative but Bucky caught the waver in his pitch.

"Believe? We need better than that."

"What about you then, Barnes?"

"I had my eyes on the prisoner."

They looked to Robert Taylor but he just shook his head, shrugging as if he had no clue what they were in for.

"One."

The heads of the three remaining Americans turned as if the prisoner's whisper had been a loud fog horn.

"Are you sure?" Mikey asked, looking suspicious with good reason. If they prepared themselves to take down only one man and there were more, they might as well have been lying themselves in a coffin.

The prisoner nodded, continuing to look at Bucky despite being addressed by the other.

"What's our plan, then?" Mikey miserably asked, "We have no means of communication without blindly running out there to grab it from the Corp."

Bucky looked between his friends, nodding to himself before speaking. "I'll do it. Right now, we have the element of surprise. I can get the radio and at least bring it a few steps closer. And if there is more than one shooter, you'll be able to tell."

"No," Mikey said quickly, shaking his head.

"But it makes sense, you both have families to go back to. What do I have?"

"A future."

"Oh come on now, Taylor, I'm here because I had no where to go- hey, kid!"

Bucky cut himself off as he watched the prisoner jump to his feet but instead of pivoting to the right for an easy escape, he took a step to the left. The soldiers tried to grab him but he easily outmaneuvered them, running past the protection of the fence and crouching besides the body of the superior.

Robert had followed, running into the open street. He had accidentally drawn attention away from the lone shooter, catching a bullet to the chest as the prisoner flipped the superior's body over and removed the radio pack. He then lay still on the ground, chest still rising and falling but very slowly now, as if he were trying to play dead.

Clever, Bucky thought, he's giving us time.

Mikey stared at his friend's dead body, brows furrowing causing lines on his forehead to appear.

He started marching towards the end of the fencing line when Bucky caught him by his elbow, pulling him back by throwing him to the ground.

"You're staying right here," Bucky ordered, glaring down at him as he fell into a crouch once again. He scanned their surroundings, knowing that there was no way to avoid gunfire. It was an open road with no protection for a hundred yards in three directions. There was no way to leave the protection of the fence without being fired at, the only way through was to kill the shooter.

"Our situation just keeps getting worse and worse," Mikey fumed, pushing himself to his feet and kicking the fence post angrily. "We need the radio and the kid and to take that goddamn shooter down so we can make it out with our lives. I thought the hard part of our mission was over!"

He grabbed his gun from the sidewalk and fired a bullet into Rogers' chest. The prisoner managed not to move a muscle and Bucky thanked God for that.

"Mikey, calm down."

"Calm down? We've got no sniper because Bobby was our best shot, no experienced leader to tell us what to do, no radio for assistance, and no fucking prisoner because he's lying right there waiting to be slaughtered."

Bucky waited, allowing the other to cool off for a few minutes before sighing.

"I have a plan."

"You're not sacrificing yourself."

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, Barnes, and all I have to say is you aren't going all noble true American spirit on me."

Bucky sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well I don't see that we have any other options."

"We're going to kill the bastard."

"And just how do you plan on doing that-"

Mikey grabbed his arm and pulled him from the protection of the fence out into the open. Bucky's eyes were wide and he dove to the ground to grab the pack. The prisoner was staring up at him as Bucky grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him to his feet. He then pushed Bucky back and the other stumbled, a bullet whistling past his nose. He regained his balance and tossed the scrawny kid to safety as he sprinted a few steps and dove behind the protection of the fence.

They were both panting, Bucky's cheek burning from where his skin had collided with the pavement. He scrunched his nose, wiping the small drops of blood that bubbled to the surface off with the back of his hand as he turned on the radio.

Before he could even speak, he looked over to the prisoner who had only managed to turn himself over onto his back. His breathing was staggered and he coughed, eyes locked onto his shoulder where he was pressing his trembling hand.

Bucky's mouth was dry as he shifted closer, lifting the shaking hand to reveal a bullet wound far too close to his heart to not have been fatal.

His mind began racing as he stripped the prisoner from his thin, cotton shirt. As he bent over him, his dog tag swayed frantically as if trying to catch Bucky's attention.

And it had because once it was in his line of vision, an idea buried and rooted itself in his thoughts.

"How well can you speak English?" he asked.

The prisoner responded quickly, "Perfectly."

"Alright, get a hold of someone on the radio and tell them our situation. If I get shot and die..." Bucky started, taking off his dog tag and lifting the prisoner's head so he would be able to place it around his neck, "tell them that you are Sergeant James Barnes."

"You can't do that for me," the prisoner protested, shaking his head and trying to remove the dog tag. Bucky reached forwards, wrapping his fingers around his wrist to lower his hand.

"You saved my life and besides, you're my mission."

The prisoner looked hesitant but nodded slightly, "And if you aren't shot?"

Bucky thought for a moment, turning his attention towards the four, fixed bodies.

"Tell them your name is Private Steve Rogers."

He nodded, weakly lying his head back down as Bucky rose. This could be the most pointless thing he had ever done in his entire life but the kid had just taken a bullet for him and would die either of his wound, if Bucky tried to wait the shooter out, or he would be executed the moment they stepped into the camp for a reason that even he didn't know. This would be worth it.

It was also a plus to strip Steven Rogers of his identity.

Bucky bounced on his feet, taking a deep breath that very well could have been his last before sprinting to the clump of bodies, Mikey's among them. With his concern for the prisoner, he hadn't even regarded his friend's death.

Surprisingly, he was not shot to death on the spot, the bullets didn't even start firing until a few seconds later. The shooter must have thought that they were done with the senseless charges.

He had enough time to tear the jacket from Rogers' back and snatch his dog tag before he was shot in the back of his thigh. He clenched his teeth as he got to his feet, getting shot again in his upper right shoulder before making it back to safety.

He collapsed, heaving as he listened to the prisoner's soft voice speak into the radio. He struggled to sit up, using the fence for support and then leaning against it as he stared down at the prisoner.

"Name? Private Steve Rogers, sir," he said with a small nod as Bucky tossed Rogers' jacket at him along with the dog tag.

The two waited there for a short time before help came, only communicating through short, uneven breaths.

-

"Where is he?"

After spending only two days recovering from their injuries after the two had been sent back to America, Bucky seemed quite mobile for an injured soldier. He knew it was a hard story to believe that a scrawny looking boy had made it past training but Bucky had claimed that he found him along the way and was planning to take him back to camp.

"Sergeant Barnes, that's none of your concern."

"He's my friend! He saved my life."

"He's a hero then?"

"Yes, of course! I just...I just want to know if he's dead or not."

Bartering with a nurse was not what Bucky had in mind for a reunion with the man that had saved his life and he had almost given his own for.

She pursed her lips as she was stared down by a persistent Bucky Barnes. He wouldn't back down, not about this.

"I'm under oath not to say."

Bucky raised a brow, pushing her aside and simply turning the knob. Luckily, it was unlocked.

Damn, a secretive military plan that you have to be under oath to know about and the door's unlocked? Fucking America.

The nurse slammed the door behind Bucky, placing a hand on his wounded shoulder but he barely even winced. He had been paralyzed by the piercing gaze of the man in the center of the room.

It was the prisoner, standing a head taller with three times the muscles. He was almost unrecognizable but his eyes gave him away.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He smiled brightly with a full set of shining teeth, walking forward with hurried steps to embrace Bucky.

Bucky was stiff for a moment before leaning into the touch, arms wrapping around him for a moment.

"What do I call you?" he asked in a hushed tone to keep the nurse from overhearing.

"Steven Rogers, that's who I am now."

"No, not Steven, you're better than him," Bucky argued, pulling back and smiling. "I'm glad you made it, Steve."

Delight flickered in Steve's eyes, liking the sound of his new name, "Better than ever."

"What happened to you?"

Before he could start, a thin man with a thick mustache walked in. He regarded Bucky before his eyes settled on the nurse. She gulped, slowly backing out of the room to leave the three men alone.

"Hi, Howard Stark here and you are...?Oh, never mind that, it doesn't matter. He was close to death and you vouched for his bravery so I decided to use him as a test subject. I won't bother you with the specifics that your mind could hardly even comprehend and simply say it was a serum that made him a... well, what some would call a 'super soldier.'

"Not immortal, but almost."

Steve nodded, not at all impressed by the scientific breakthrough. He looked at Bucky and shrugged. Suddenly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a dog tag, handing it to him.

"I hope this in my possession didn't cause any trouble, James."

It was a question and if necessary, an apology.

"It wasn't a big deal, I was awake enough to tell them who I was. And I told you, it's Bucky."

It was an acceptance as much as it was an introduction.

"Right, now that you know about your friend, you're sworn to secrecy and are now government property!"

"Should've locked your door."

"Funny. Now go run along, you two, within reason. The geniuses have things to work on."

Steve grinned at Bucky, following him out the door and looking around.

"How's the shoulder?"

Bucky shrugged, glancing at it as if he would be able to see the wound through his thick shirt and the dressing.

Steve had guided them through the hallways, glancing out the windows to the streets below where cars hurried past.

"Do you know where we are?"

"The Pentagon, or our new home I guess."

Bucky nodded, staring down at the intersection to see a couple crossing the road, grins plastered across their cheeks as the snowflakes fluttered around them. His eyes continued searching, finding exactly what he was looking for.

"Ever been to America?"

"No."

Bucky smirked, "Well I may have been a Brooklyn boy but I think I can find my way around the District of Columbia."

Steve raised a brow, "And you think they're going to let a secretive war piece just waltz right out of the Pentagon?"

"Do you like pizza?"

"Yes."

"Then it's worth a shot."


End file.
